


Enjolras and the Seven Amis

by Bearit



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Disney, Gen, Humor, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearit/pseuds/Bearit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Amis does Snow White and makes vast improvements to the original story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjolras and the Seven Amis

Once upon a time, in a far away land, a king named Louis-Phillipe turned to his magic mirror every morning and asked:

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who has the fairest kingdom of them all?”

And the mirror always replied, “You do, Your Highness,” and Louis-Phillipe was pleased.

Then, one day, when the king’s stepson had grown into a feisty, fiery young lad, the mirror changed his answer.

“Famed is thy kingdom, Majesty. But hold, a young revolutionary I see. This young man will overthrow your reign, and put a Republic in its place. Alas, if he is to succeed, your kingdom shall become no more.”

Louis-Phillipe scowled. “Alas for him! Who is this Republican?”

The face in the mirror faded and the image of the king’s stepson took its place. “Hair as golden as the sun and skin as white as snow…”

“Enjolras!” Louis-Phillipe hissed.

He immediately called upon the trusted huntsman, Feuilly, and imparted this order upon him:

“Take him far into the forest. Teach him how to hunt. And when his back is turned, you must kill him. And to be sure that you do not fail me, bring his heart back to me.”

And so Feuilly took Enjolras into the forest and taught him how to shoot a gun, draw a bow, and swing a sword, all of which Enjolras was already proficient at. But, being a man oppressed by the king and a young Republican himself, told Enjolras the king’s plan to have him assassinated.

“The coward!” Enjolras hissed, and Feuilly agreed. “We must not let him get away with this! The people must rise, for they continue to starve and die and the king does nothing to help them! I shall go rally them, and you, Feuilly, shall buy me the time that I need. Bring the king the heart of a pig, and meet me by the old abandoned diamond mine in three days’ time.”

Feuilly agreed, and the two parted.

The night had descended upon the forest by the time Enjolras stumbled upon a little house. He knocked on the door, but nobody answered. With a frown, Enjolras thought to move on, but unfortunately there was no sign of a village or town anywhere nearby. Instead of breaking and entering a home, he took the supplies Feuilly had given him and set up a small camp in front of the house and promptly fell asleep.

That was when the seven residents of the house returned from their work at the not-so abandoned diamond mine. Curious about the golden-haired boy sleeping in their front yard, they stared down upon him, whispering among themselves incessantly.

“What is he?”

“He must be an angel! See how beautiful he is?”

“Bah! He is clearly a prince. See how well he is dressed?”

“We are well-dressed as well. Well, some of us.”

“We should wake him!”

“Or we can let him sleep. He looks exhausted!”

That was when Enjolras awoke, frowning at the faces peering down on him. “Are you the ones who live in that house?”

“Yes,” replied the stern man in the glasses. “Who are you, and why do you sleep at our doorstep?”

And so Enjolras introduced himself and explained how the king learned about his intentions to overthrow the monarchy and start a Republic, and how he ordered him to be killed.

“So you see, I cannot return until the time is right for revolution. Then I plan to erect a barricade, and the people shall be freed!”

And the seven Amis, for that is what they were, agreed to let Enjolras stay with them, for they, too, had many greivances against the king and the current government. They spent the night talking and debating, and Enjolras soon learned all about his new allies and friends.

There was Combeferre, who shared many of Enjolras’s views and who Enjolras felt an immediate connection to. He was the leader of the Amis, but over the next few hours it became apparent that Enjolras had comforably occupied that role alongside him.

Then there was Bahorel, who seemed wary of Enjolras’s presence at first but quickly warmed up to him. There was also Courfeyrac, rarely without a smile or a laugh; Jehan, bashful; Joly, nose red and constantly sneezing; Bossuet, bald and clumsy; and Grantaire, always in the corner, staring at Enjolras with a dazed expression, which Enjolras attributed to the absinthe he held in his hand. This was confirmed by Grantaire winding up slumped over on the table and snoring loudly.

Over the next couple of days, they planned ways to help get the people in the kingdom riled up for revolution. Then, remembering his promise to Feuilly, Enjolras asked the Amis to take him to the diamond mine where they worked. The huntsman was already waiting for him and told him both the good and the bad news: that the king had bought the lie, but that it also would not last, for Feuilly had discovered that he had a magic mirror that barred nothing. They were running out of time.

In fact, they had no more time left, for when Louis-Phillipe asked the mirror, “Who has the fairest kingdom of them all?” the mirror answered:

“Over the seven jewelled hills, beyond the seventh fall, in the cottage of the Seven Amis, dwells Enjolras, the young Republican destined to overthrow your reign.”

“Impossible!” Louis-Phillipe cried. “Enjolras lies dead in the forest. The huntsman has brought me proof. Behold, his heart.”

“Enjolras still lives. ‘Tis the heart of a pig you hold in your hand.”

Infuriated, Louis-Phillipe concocted a new plan to nip the revolution in the bud once and for all.

Unfortunately for Enjolras and the Amis, the people could not hear their speeches, not even, or perhaps especially, Grantaire’s sleepy and drunken ramblings that made little sense to anybody.

When Feuilly returned from a scouting mission at the castle and informed everyone what the king was up to, they came up with a new plan.

And so Feuilly went with the Seven Amis to the old diamond mine one morning, while Enjolras stayed behind to draft up some more speeches. Then an old peddler came knocking at the house, asking Enjolras to buy some of his apples.

The disguise was poor and Enjolras saw right through it. This peddler was none other than Louis-Phillipe. But he had to stick to the plan. And so he agreed to eat the apple that he knew was poisoned, but he only pretended to, using a trick that Combeferre had taught him. He collapsed on the floor, mocking his death, and Louis-Phillipe cackled in delight.

“Now my kingdom is the fairest in all the lands! None shall ever rise up against me!”

“Are you so certain about that?” cried a voice behind the king. He turned to see eight angry men with guns aimed at him.

Louis-Phillipe was infuriated. “This is treason! You shall hang for this!”

“No,” said Enjolras, rising from his mock slumber on the ground and grabbing his own gun to point at the king. “The people shall decide your fate. And you are mistaken that my death alone will stem the tide of revolution. Your people are starving. They are dying from disease and from poverty. And you have lived in riches, fat and happy. Even if I had died, they would have eventually risen up against you. But now begins the dawning of a new Republic, and your fate is tied to this.”

And so the Republic was established, and they lived happily ever after.

The End


End file.
